#i am really interested now in xaviers fall and i want him to be pathetic about him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

barenjunges · 4 years

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lonely bottles - rule of threes

rule of threes 5191 words third person limited pov present tense content warnings under cut

“I feel like you’re the kind of guy who can make a party out of nothing,” Thomas says, which surprises Schuylar. He perks up. “So get to it.”

So Schuylar does.

content warnings: intense mentions of parental physical abuse, graphic sexual content and conversation including about bdsm, some trans male issues, offensive homophobic language (in a conversation about homophobia)

author’s notes: well, i wrote this off and on for a week after my cat passed away so it’s probably a little disjointed. and not edited/proofed well. i did catch a couple times i slipped into second person though so it should be okay. this piece definitely has mature themes, particularly in regards to sex and abuse. so proceed with caution! i think this is, again, pre-whump. but it’s definitely coming.

i’m hoping more writing will happen soon now that i’m sort of getting back to an okay place. i really, really miss my cat \: i’m getting kind of into schuylar as a character so i’m excited to write more of him in relation to henry and xavier and developing them as well. anyway... here it is!

The rule of threes applies to everything. Including shady boyfriends.

Not that Thomas is Schuylar’s boyfriend yet. Schuylar isn’t a virgin by any definition of the word, but he does tend to wait until he knows a person to hook up with them. He’s definitely had one-night-stands - it’s hard not to when one parties as much as he does - but he doesn’t really plan on doing that as much as it just happens. The funny thing is that he’s the most openly promiscuous of the group, but Xavier has a higher body count, he thinks. If anyone starts out the night looking for sex, it’s Xavier. Henry still hasn’t ever gotten his dick wet, but nothing makes Schuylar cringe quite like mocking virginity, so it’s not like he cares. Henry has said he’s just not interested and that’s enough for Schuylar. Not that it’s actually any of his business in the first place.

In any case, other people may say Schuylar sleeps around, but if he does, he doesn’t exactly enjoy it.

“This party is a little smaller than I was expecting,” he says to Thomas just four days after meeting him at a Starbucks. He was wearing some pretty baggy sweatpants then, but now he has on black jeans so tight they look painted on. It was hard to smash his packer in there.

“That’s a really nice way of saying boring,” Thomas says. Schuylar can’t help but laugh because he isn’t wrong.

“Stop it, he’s a good friend. It just happens now and then,” he says. “People just don’t show up. I do wonder where they all are, though. They can’t all be doing homework on a Saturday night.”

“Maybe there’s another party somewhere,” Thomas says. Schuylar sighs. He’s sitting on the arm of the couch while Thomas is on the cushion beside him, running his fingertips up and down Schuylar’s thigh. It’s sort of electrifying for him, not that guys haven’t been a lot more handsy before - but there’s something about Thomas that makes the hair on the back of Schuylar’s neck stand on end. It’s that Thomas is actually sexy and Schuylar is terrified of being boring. So boring that Thomas will lose interest. He’s not confident he can lock him down, make him his. Though God knows having a hot boyfriend would be fucking great.

“Maybe,” Schuylar says as he opens up his text messages. “I guess I can ask.”

It takes about twenty minutes, but Schuylar finally susses out that there is another party, and it’s at this host’s ex’s apartment on campus. Thomas makes his feelings clear - “We can do whatever you want but this is boring” - and Schuylar chooses to come clean and let the poor guy know. He’s obviously less than thrilled but he’s too nice of a guy to make anyone stay and that’s why Schuylar can’t bring himself to leave.

“He’s in need,” he says to Thomas. “I can’t just leave a friend in need.”

Thomas looks away for a moment and Schuylar wonders if he made a mistake. This friend - his name is Damien - means a lot to him. But does he even really care about Schuylar enough to appreciate him losing out on a guy like Thomas? But Thomas would be kind of a dick if he didn’t want to hang out again just because of this, right?

Does Schuylar care? Or is he just so horny for him that it’ll be a waste if he doesn’t even get to sleep with him?

But then Thomas smiles coyly and looks back at him out of the corner of his eye.

“So that’s the kind of guy you are?”

“Huh?”

“You’ll risk not getting laid for a friend?”

If he weren’t smiling right now, Schuylar would think he was angry. As it is, he smiles back.

“Bros before hoes,” he shrugs. Thomas finally looks him head on and grins wider.

“I’m a ho?”

“Yeah, but that’s a good thing,” Schuylar says, leaning into him. “‘Cuz I am, too.”

“I gotta respect a slut who puts his friends above getting a dick in his ass.”

Schuylar wavers. He did just call himself a ho, not to mention Thomas, but he meant it in more of a jovial, aren’t-we-all-young-and-horny way. Thomas says it in a way that comes off way more biting. Almost insulting. And fairly presumptuous that Schuylar is eager to put something up his ass so fast. But after a few seconds he convinces himself he’s overreacting; they’re having a suggestive conversation and Thomas is sexy as fuck so he’s probably used to twinks falling all over themselves to get to him. It’s not his fault he’s got an idea of how this is going to go.

“Yeah,” is all Schuylar says though, with a little laugh. He thinks a little harder. “Well. I.”

He doesn’t continue but Thomas hardly notices.

“I feel like you’re the kind of guy who can make a party out of nothing,” he says, which surprises Schuylar. He perks up. “So get to it.”

So Schuylar does. He immediately calls Xavier and Henry, both of whom told him they couldn’t come out tonight but Henry can take a break from studying and Xavier is just being lazy. Schuylar tells him to put on pants and get the fuck over and when he explains the whole situation - they both know Damien too and what’s more, hate his ex - they agree. Henry is the kind of guy content with his small group of close friends so he doesn’t have anyone else to bring but Schuylar makes Xavier promise to go through his address book (“Address book? Is it 1995?” he asks). Nevertheless, people start to trickle in and Schuylar supposes that’s more making a party rather than making one out of nothing, but what was he going to do? Dance in front of the TV for the six people who were present? He manages to gather a crowd of about thirty people in less than an hour.

He’s pathetically content that Thomas is impressed.

“You have a lot of friends,” he muses. Schuylar shakes his head.

“Some are Xavier’s friends and some are friends of friends.”

“How many of them do you know?”

“Most of them,” he shrugs. “But Xav is to thank for a good chunk of the people here.”

“You’re modest.” Thomas sounds almost angry. Like, legitimately… jealous? “Every single person here knows who you are.”

“Well, it’s not that many people anyway and I make friends easily. It’s not high school. The pool of people is bigger. You just plopped yourself down right next to me at a Starbucks.”

“So?”

“So,” Schuylar says dumbly, “if you did it, why wouldn’t other people?”

“Have they?”

“Well, no, I just mean you were willing to,” he says. “So it stands to reason others wou - all I’m saying is if you wanted to be my friend, can’t you see others would?”

“I didn’t want to be your friend,” he says with another smile. It makes Schuylar smile too, despite the fact that something deep in his chest is telling him to be wary. But that’s mostly a self-loathing thing. Nothing this good could ever happen to me.

Xavier smiles when he’s introduced, but Schuylar can tell he isn’t so sure about it either - and while Henry is usually pretty quiet, he certainly makes no effort now to seem happy to meet him.

“You just sat right down?” Henry asks. “For no reason?”

“Yep,” Thomas says.

“You didn’t feel the chaos that emanates from him?” Xavier asks him. His smile is still in place but it’s looking faker and faker.

“Oh, I felt it,” Thomas grins. He puts his hands around Schuylar’s hips and Schuylar feels embarrassed. It’s not weird when a stranger gropes him while dancing with his friends but this is a much more intimate touch. They’re just standing around talking; Thomas doesn’t need to touch him like this. “It’s pretty hard to miss it with him, huh?”

“Yep,” Henry says immediately.

“I like to think it wasn’t for no reason,” Schuylar says. “I think he sat down next to me because I’m gorgeous and very smart.”

“What were you wearing?” Xavier asks with a cocky, knowing grin. Schuylar kind of grins back.

“Sweatpants and a hoodie, so no, he didn’t know I was rich.”

“Exactly how rich are you?”

Schuylar grins for sure then, and even Henry gives a little smile. It’s always funny when people really learn what old money means. Thomas seems to understand.

“Really?” he asks. “I just came over because you were cute and I thought I could manipulate you into letting me help you study. I didn’t know I was finding a sugar daddy.”

“That’s because Schuylar is the rich one and still gives off sugar baby vibes,” Xavier says. “I don’t think he can actually be a sugar daddy.”

“He’s a trust fund baby,” Thomas says and Schuylar shakes his head. They sure do like talking about him like he isn’t in the room. “There’s a difference.”

“Well, I think we should all have a drink,” Schuylar says. “I’ll even get the good stuff from my car. You know, so my poor friends can partake.”

Henry is upper-middle class - not nearly as rich as Schuylar, but very well off - so really, Xavier is the only poor one, but Henry isn’t going to waste his money on alcohol. Schuylar knows that. And he also knows that if he’s the biggest douche he can be about it, Xavier won’t feel so bad about taking advantage of his money. So when he says it, Xavier actually grins wider and points at the door. Schuylar takes his leave of the situation and comes back with three bottles of Ciroc Coconut - not exactly expensive, but more money than any other college kid is spending on a bottle of flavored vodka - and immediately pours as many shots as he can before running out of cups. Then he starts using caps of other liquor bottles and suddenly everyone is doing a shot and Thomas looks impressed.

“I’d be disappointed,” he says to him later, “because you’re definitely the life of the party, which means getting laid tonight probably isn’t happening. But I kind of like watching you in action.”

Schuylar is drunk enough that all he registers is Thomas wants to fuck him, so he smiles and presses their foreheads together.

“Good things come to those who wait.”

So the first night they spent together was pretty eventful. Fun, even. Not that they really spent it together, since Schuylar passed out on the floor by the TV around four a.m. and Thomas never fell asleep at all. They do breakfast in the morning and Schuylar tells him he can kiss him goodbye if he wants, but then their first kiss will be in the parking lot of an IHOP while Schuylar is hungover and Thomas is exhausted.

“You think I care what our first kiss is like?”

Schuylar grins.

“Yeah, I do. But if you don’t, then go ahead and kiss me.”

He doesn’t. Schuylar goes home to find his parents are there. And they’re pissed the gate was unlocked. So Schuylar goes to bed that night with light welts on his back but whatever. Thomas gives a shit about him and he considers that an accomplishment. No one that hot has ever given a shit about him. Or, at least, Schuylar thinks he’s hot.

“He’s fine,” Xavier tells him. Schuylar rolls his eyes and looks at Henry who seems to contemplate it.

“He’s pretty handsome,” he confesses. “I mean, I’m not good at judging looks. But I think he’s handsome.”

“You think I’m cute,” Schuylar says. “Is he as cute as me?”

“You’re cute because I actually kind of like twinks,” Henry says. “Against my better judgment.”

“I’m only a twink physically,” Schuylar says pointedly. “I’m a trans twink, I can’t help that. I’m not a racist femboy.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Henry says. “But Thomas isn’t a twink. So I guess he’s pretty handsome but I may not be the best judge. I hope he’s not a racist.”

“It is an honor to be the most attractive twink in your opinion,” Schuylar says, grabbing his phone and opening his text messages. “You two are the only hot cis guys as far as I’m concerned.”

“And Thomas?” Xavier asks. Schuylar feels the disdain in his voice but doesn’t care. For how chill he is, Xavier’s always been a little judgmental and Schuylar thinks it’s more because he doesn’t trust anyone can make choices as good as his. But he’s a one-night-stand kind of guy, so he’s not exactly making many choices anyway.

“And Thomas,” Schuylar nods. “At least, I’m pretty sure he’s not a racist.” He starts to text him, asking if he’s free tomorrow night. “If he is, I’ll bail. I promise.”

“Better find out sooner rather than later,” Henry says, turning back to his homework. “It would suck if you found out someone was a bad person after you slept together.”

“That was a party hookup,” Xavier says, jogging Schuylar’s memory: he did once sleep with a guy who ended up being photographed at a homophobic protest. “And it happened after we slept together, he was just repressed. He had a lot of iss - it was once,” Xavier is stumbling over his words. “I for one feel sorry for the dude.”

“So sorry for the guy holding a ‘God hates fags’ sign,” Schuylar laughs. The thing is, he kind of does feel bad for the guy. But Xavier is so holier-than-thou sometimes, it’s nice to have one over him. “Anyway, I’m gonna have people over tomorrow so I can hook up with Thomas.”

They know that means they’re invited but even more so, they have to invite friends too, so the party can turn big enough for Schuylar to slip off to his room and have sex. With a day’s notice, Henry can ask the nerds from this Asian-American book club, who almost always accept invites to Schuylar’s place because no one there knows they’re fucking nerds so they actually have a chance to get laid too - and Schuylar, for all his faults, is an excellent wingman, so they like him too - and Xavier considers padding the guest list to be his contribution to parties as the resident poor, so pad it he does.

The thing is, they all know they can spend a night together, just the three of them, and be just as happy. But no one will ever say it because that would be admitting that they get along better than they pretend they do. They did only meet because they had such specific circumstances that precluded them from going home on time. But over the years, they realized they had a lot more in common, and that part is weird. They don’t like it and would prefer to continue thinking of themselves as friends of happenstance.

Schuylar would prefer to think of himself as the extremely privileged one, even though Henry and Xavier never let anyone give him shit for being trans - or bi - and he’s also never exactly had to pretend like being rich is really worth it when his parents would rather hit him than talk to him. There’s a lot he doesn’t have to worry about, but as far as he’s concerned, Henry and Xavier won’t ever have to worry about them either, because whatever he can fix with money, he does. He can’t stop racism or homophobia or domestic abuse. But if Henry needs a place to stay for the night he comes to Schuylar. If Xavier needs grocery money for the week - well, he doesn’t come to Schuylar exactly; he more lets it slip to Henry that his mom has credit card debt and Henry tells Schuylar, who writes a check that Xavier doesn’t accept at first and then pays back with interest.

And he’s always paid it back. He doesn’t have to. Schuylar’s dad owns two boats. Two-hundred dollars is nothing. But it pays for three weeks of groceries to Xavier, so Schuylar offers it up.

Though he’ll admit: there’s something kind of powerful about writing a check. Not because he feels he has power over the person he’s writing a check for, but because when he’s donating a hundred dollars to a domestic abuse charity or an environmental cause and putting it in his dad’s name, he feels like he has control, even for one second, over where his dad’s money goes. He loves donating to charities his dad hates - and his dad hates most charities - and getting leather to his skin is worth it.

At least, it is until his newest conquest sees it.

“Shit, what is that?”

Schuylar’s shirt is on the floor and his binder is hanging off the bedside table. He hasn’t had sex in a while and he’s only once had to worry about his partner seeing marks from his dad; he totally forgot that Thomas would feel them, let alone see them. He licks his lips, tries to catch his breath as the making out pauses and he considers his answer. He could tell the truth but it might spark a conversation - one he isn’t ready for. And if it doesn’t, he’d wonder why Thomas doesn’t care. So he could lie. Tell him he’s a masochist. But giving himself back welts seems really pathetic. And telling him he hooked up with someone else doesn’t feel like a good idea.

He’s just trying to not come across as desperate.

“Don’t piss off my dad,” he smiles, still breathing pretty hard. “You get the horns or whatever.”

“Seems more like you get the belt.”

“Yeah,” Schuylar nods, using his hands to cup Thomas’s face and go in for another kiss. He gets one, but not a long one.

“So your dad hits you with a belt?”

Schuylar’s had this conversation before in his head, but rarely out loud: yes, his dad hits him with a belt, but not randomly, whenever he pleases. Yes, the reasons he chooses are stupid sometimes and yeah, it hurts, yeah, it leaves marks. But they go away. The worst was when he left on the yacht overnight without telling them when he was 16, he didn’t stop for about ten minutes and the wraparound was intense. Schuylar can try to run but his dad will follow and he’d rather get it on his back and ass than anywhere else so he tries to just take it.

Also, that’s what a man does.

He doesn’t want to say all that to Thomas, though he’s already a little annoyed. He kind of just wants to get off. But it’s good Thomas is concerned. He should be.

“Only when I piss him off,” he says. “Horns.”

“What’d you do to piss him off here?”

Now is when Schuylar should lie. Leaving the gate unlocked definitely makes it sound like abuse.

“I stole the yacht.”

“You have a yacht?”

“I’m old money in New England, of course I have a yacht.”

“But your dad doesn’t like you on it?”

“Well, me and my brother have our own boats,” he says. “We can take those whenever. He was pissed I took his.”

“Why would you take his when you have your own?” he asks. Schuylar shrugs and smiles because he’s sure not telling him that he wanted to piss him off. He’s not even sure why he wants to piss him off sometimes. It’s just an urge. But Thomas gets it. “Sounds like you aren’t exactly one for self-preservation.”

“Guess not,” Schuylar says, eager to get back into things. He has this desire to prove to Thomas that he’s worth a round two. He’s so good in bed that Thomas should stick around, make him his boyfriend. But Thomas doesn’t seem overly concerned with that right now.

“Does it hurt?”

“No.” He goes back in. Thomas pushes him away.

“Did it?”

Schuylar looks at him in frustration. He can’t really blame him. But he wants to.

“No, it was just a tickle,” he says sarcastically. “Are we gonna fuck?”

“You really are a slut.”

Schuylar sits back on his feets and sighs. It’s not like he hasn’t heard that before. He’s a little eager in bed. But shouldn’t Thomas be - grateful?

“You complaining?”

“Are you?” he asks. “It’s gonna hurt if I fuck you. On your back, it’s gonna chafe.”

“Then let’s do it doggy style.”

“I’ll run my nails down your back doggy style.”

“Well,” Schuylar blinks. “Don’t.”

“I have to.”

“Why?”

“I just will,” he says. “I won’t think about it. Plus, I think I’m a sadist.”

Schuylar wouldn’t consider himself a masochist. And not even really a sub. He’s a bottom because he likes cock in his ass and pussy, but he’s kind of aggressive himself. Unless someone as hot as Thomas is exerting dominance first.

“You wanna tie me up and make me cry?”

“Just making you cry is enough.”

Schuylar stares at him until he grins.

“I’m just kidding,” he says. “I’m not gonna make you cry. I just think I like seeing guys like you in pain.”

“Guys like me?”

“Hot twinks who look pretty when they cry,” he says. “Do you cry when your dad hits you?”

It feels like a dangerous question but Schuylar isn’t sure why. It’s a fair question. It’s sensible. But the context is off. The timing is questionable.

“Sometimes,” he says, mostly because he’s so thrown off that he can’t come up with a lie. Thomas nods at him and runs one hand down his back. He winces.

“Maybe one day I’ll see it,” he says softly, his nails digging in for one second, pulling a hiss from the tip of Schuylar’s teeth. Thomas smiles. “But we’d have to have a whole conversation about that, if you even want to. Can’t just run into something like that without a conversation.”

It sounds so reasonable. And right. And good. Thomas sounds like a good guy. But Schuylar feels a little off after that and suggests they wait until his back is healed - so Thomas can be as rough as he wants.

“Passionate,” he corrects, grabbing Schuylar’s binder and handing it back to him. Schuylar takes it with a smirk. “I get passionate. Not rough.”

“What if I want you to get rough?”

“Then you’re a slut and a masochist.”

“I don’t think I’m either.”

“Maybe you don’t know yourself as well as you think you do.”

He’s pretty sure he knows himself fairly well, but he could be discovering a side he didn’t know existed. They go back down to the party in Schuylar’s own house and Xavier raises an eyebrow. Henry seems to pick up on the fact too that that would have been an awfully fast fuck for a first time, so Schuylar shakes his head at them, indicating that he’ll tell them later.

He never does.

The third time he and Thomas hang out is when it finally happens, but not before things get the slightest bit uncomfortable. Actually, Schuylar would have waited until a fourth “date” but it’s not like his dad saw them fucking or anything.

They’re on Schuylar’s couch, eating takeout from a seafood place that Schuylar loves but put on nice dishes so it felt a little more romantic. He wasn’t going to try to cook - he doesn’t really know how because no one ever taught him and he always had the money to order in - but he wanted things to resemble pleasant and date-like. He got a shrimp salad so he wouldn’t feel too full for sex but Thomas is putting away a second lobster tail and only has a few bites of his steak and potatoes left. Schuylar’s actually impressed - and so is Thomas, by Schuylar’s reckless display of wealth.

“It’s all my parents,” he grins. “I can’t wait to get my trust fund so I can just have a nice little house off a lake and not deal with too many people.”

“And your boat?”

“That’s why I’ll be on a lake. One day I’m sailing away from here for good so I’ll need it.”

“You’re leaving?”

“One day,” he says. “Unless someone convinces me to stay.”

“Oh,” Thomas singsongs. “You expect me to do that?”

“We’ll see,” Schuylar shrugs. “Depends on how good you are in bed.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna dump me if I don’t satisfy?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, unable to keep a smirk off his face. “I think I can manage.”

“What’s that mean?”

Thomas looks at him dangerously.

“What’s the biggest you’ve ever taken?”

“What?”

“What,” he says slower, “is the largest size cock you’ve ever had inside of you?”

Schuylar raises his eyebrows. Is he implying he has a big dick? Schuylar’s never really cared much about size. He’s never really measured the stuff that’s gone inside him but he supposes he has a pretty big dildo under his bed.

“Depends,” he says. “Do you mean ass or pussy?”

“Whichever you want.”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I can handle it.”

“You ever looked down while getting fucked and seen it bulging out your stomach?”

“Is that real?” he asks. “I thought that was a 3D porn thing.”

“I’ve been having this fantasy,” Thomas says quietly, “where your hands are tied behind your back. You’re naked with a collar around your neck. And you’re sitting on my cock, crying about how big it is. And y-”

“Schuylar?”

He jumps out of his skin when his dad’s voice comes from the doorway. He didn’t hear him come home - which isn’t surprising since they’re in the sitting room as far from the garage as possible. It’s Schuylar’s date spot because there’s a fridge full of alcohol and a TV; plus he can easily move things into his bedroom whenever he wants.

The thing is, his dad has kind of picked up on that. So he knows he’s trying to get laid right now - especially if he heard what Thomas was saying. And Thomas seems a little freaked too, but he quickly stands up and with his fancy watch and big arms in his Polo, he does look like a good guy to bring home to one’s parents. Not that Schuylar’s have ever given any shits who he dates.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Schuylar says, grabbing his chest. His dad stands in the doorway, tall and intimidating without even trying. Not that Schuylar’s intimidated. He just knows he looks scary.

“Sorry,” he says. “I just thought I’d maybe walk around my own house.”

“Do you need something?”

“No,” he says, turning to leave. “I just saw your car in the garage and wondered where you were.”

“In my room,” Schuylar mutters. “Big surprise.”

He doesn’t say anything else. He just exits gracelessly, leaving Thomas standing there like a dumbass as Schuylar takes another bite of his salad.

“Oh, thanks for introducing us,” Thomas says. Schuylar rolls his eyes.

“He doesn’t care,” he tells him. “It’s not you. He only cared about my high school boyfriend when we’d been together for a year and even then it was mostly because his mom went to prison.”

“What?”

“My high school boyfriend moved in with me for a year because his dad died years ago and his mom got sent to prison for armed robbery. But he was a super senior so he was already eighteen and legally allowed to live on his own. He’d had his stuff here for two weeks before my mom and dad said hi.”

“Were you a boy at that point?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I only started T a little over two years ago but I was already using he and him. I was ten when I started transitioning non-physically.”

“Ten?” he asks incredulously. “And your parents were okay with it?”

“I told a particularly cool teacher to call me a boy one day and he called my parents so they had to come home from a trip and start taking it seriously,” Schuylar grins. “They didn’t really care, they just decided to go along with it because if they fought it there was even more therapy and shit involved. Also I think they always wanted two sons, so.”

“You have a brother?”

“Older.”

“Does your dad hit him too?”

Not as much, Schuylar realized. But not at all anymore, since he’s moved out.

“When he lived here,” Schuylar shrugs. “Anyway, you wanna go to my room?”

“Are you asking me to fuck you?”

“God, yes.”

“Ass? Or -?”

“Does pussy freak you out?”

“No.”

“I’m good for anal, anyway.”

“Like, clean?”

“Yeah.”

Thomas takes a deep breath and grabs Schuylar’s collar, pulling him easily to his feet. Schuylar grins.

“Get ready then, ‘cuz you look good as hell tonight and I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t remember your name.”

So that’s how Schuylar finally sleeps with Thomas - it’s on his third attempt, after he doesn’t introduce him to his dad and it’s kind of sweet until Thomas asks if his parents can hear. Schuylar tells him no, his dad probably told his mom they were in his date room so they're probably on the east wing of the house now, which means they’re so far away Schuylar could start a fire here and it would take about half an hour for them to know. Thomas asks if he’s sure and Schuylar nods, then screams because Thomas digs his nails into his hips, thrusts in really hard, and leans down to leave a giant hickey on his collar bone.

Schuylar has always had a hard time differentiating between what’s a lot and what’s too much. He likes a lot. He likes being breathless, blissed out, unable to form coherent thoughts. But that’s not always how he feels post-sex and he knows that, as his high school boyfriend once put it, “everything down there kind of takes a beating during sex.”

Thomas kind of does a number on him. The one coherent thought he’s able to form is, “Fuck.”

He’s got an inkling. He’s got that formation of a thought, that basic nagging, this isn’t good. But then he considers the fact that this was their first time and Thomas is sexier than anyone he’s ever known. He did say he liked it rough; it’s just that Thomas assured him he was passionate. If that was passion, what’s rough? And what’s he going to do to get Schuylar to cry?

And, yes - his cock was kind of enormous.

“You okay?”

Schuylar is able to nod but that’s about it. For some reason, all he can think about is Xavier and Henry.

“Did I go too hard?”

“No,” Schuylar breathes. “Not at all.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Because that was nothing compared to what I wanted to do to you,” he says. Schuylar swallows down hard. “I held back.”

Schuylar has that inkling. And the worst part is that Thomas is giving him an out. Thomas is warning him.

“Think you can handle that?”

Schuylar just isn’t heeding it.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes. I can handle that.”

#lb by bj #whump #original fiction #original writing #lb3 #lb rule of threes

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